Life Studies
by Elizabeth Arian
Summary: A series of drabbles based on whatever pops into my head! And sorry in no chronological order! Prompts welcome, as are reviews...
1. Dead?

"You're saying she's dead

_**Dead?**_

_"You're saying she's dead?" Holmes gawped at me from across the room.__  
__"I believe those were my words yes."__  
__"Dead?"__  
__"Holmes what on earth is the matter with you? Dead, yes I am afraid I said dead."__  
__"And you're sure?" He crept forward in his chair, his knees tucked underneath him.__  
__"Yes, I have been a doctor for a number of years now and I would like to think I know when a person has died."__  
__"I have no doubt that you do Watson but I think on this occasion you are mistaken."__  
__"And how might that be?" I asked incredulously.__  
__"Because my dear fellow, she is in the next room."__  
__I fear I must have sworn at Holmes then for a high-pitched and musical laugh was heard trickling from the next room, which was soon followed by the owner.__  
__"Irene Adler." I whispered through clenched teeth. Damn the woman, she was the only one next to Holmes that could possibly escape death and now I felt thoroughly foolish for believing rotten tabloid gossip..._

_…………………………………………………………………………………._

_Just a little drabble series because I've never done one and I think I need the practice! Please review and let me know what you think. __EA_


	2. Taken Over

Mary sat idly toying with her embroidery and watching her husband as he sat gazing out of the window

_**Taken Over**_

_Mary sat idly toying with her embroidery and watching her husband as he sat gazing out of the window. She sighed rather loudly; hearing her he turned._

_"Something wrong dear?" He asked, smiling._

_"No dear." She answered. Biting her lip, she abandoned her sewing, "Why don't you go to him John?"_

_"Who?"_

_"Mr. Holmes."_

_"Mr. Holmes is dead." _

_She thought his voice a little harsh but understandable under the circumstances._

_"Mr. Mycroft Holmes."_

_Watson sighed, a sound that tore at his wife's heart._

_"Yes." He kissed her cheek quickly and disappeared._

_She again took her seat, was her life always to be taken over by the Holmes'?_


	3. People

People

_**People**_

_It never ceased to end this throng of people. All crashing into each other and wondering why life's little problems seemed so much larger when they were so concentrated. He released a puff of smoke from between his ever pursed lips and gazed down at them. This mass of humanity jostling for each other's attention and then regretting it once this had been achieved. It was often he who had to clean up the mess that humanity left and that was why he endeavoured to avoid it - them._

_Perhaps he was cold-hearted, deep down. As much as he tried to convince certain people otherwise, he was in fact all he said, he had never been in love and he had no desire to be. From all he had witnessed, love meant a total loss of self and almost total destruction and he was not prepared for that. He would grow old and he would die, alone maybe, but that did not matter much. If he was to die alone, he would not grieve for those absent sons and daughters that he might have had. If he was left with a content life, with no promise of continuation by his children, then at least he was spared the agony of giving himself over completely to another._

_He would rather be alone. Life was much easier when you spent it alone._


	4. Work

**Work.**

Dr. Watson groaned inwardly as the next patient walked through his door. Attempting a smile, which he felt failed considerably he shook the man's hand, which was firm, in spite of his evident pain.

"Well," Watson began, in an unusually flippant manner, "What can I do for you?"

The man in front of him groaned but said nothing; Watson leaned forward and repeated his question. Still the man said nothing.

"I'm afraid if you decline to talk to me I can hardly be expected to help you."

The man was by this time shaking. Watson stood and grasped the man by the shoulders, forcing him to look at him Watson almost cursed in his anger.

"Holmes!"

Mr. Sherlock Holmes was by now laughing so hard he could not talk, when he had regained his composure Watson stood looking at him with disdain.

"I'm sorry Watson; I merely thought you could use a distraction. You did look rather bored when I passed your window earlier."

Watson had to smile, the distraction was a welcome one and he was lucky that he had someone as unique as Holmes to save him from the doldrums of everyday life….


	5. Eyes

_This was inspired by Amberlin's fic 'The Musings of Mary Watson' so it is to her I dedicate it._

**Eyes.**

Mary Watson glanced between the two most important men in her life and only one of them knew it. John Watson glanced at her from time to time and smiled, she smiled back sheepishly. Her eyes, in spite of herself, rested on Mr. Holmes and would not leave his face. The intensity of the gaze he displayed on her husband was almost frightening but she found she could not look away. She had heard John describe him many times as 'formidable' and she could certainly see why. His entire body was tense as he spoke and he seemed hardly aware of her presence, save for the occasional glance or twitch of his lips at an attempt to smile at her.

Mary watched with fascination as his hands flew in the air as he spoke, how his fingers elegantly drew in the air what his lips were saying with word; she watched as his eyes sparkled and felt herself blushing. She should not be thinking of these things, looking at another man who was not her husband was a sin and she was well aware of it, but Mr. Holmes possessed a hold over her that her husband did not, could not. Power.

He was an extraordinary man, this she had known from the start, it was after all, his reputation that had brought her to him, to him she appealed when in desperate need and it was him who had answered, not John. Of course he had been there and it was him with whom she fell in love, but it was not for her husband that the wildest part of her yearned. She felt sick at the thought, as the two men debated whatever it was they were debating, she sipped at her tea. He was looking at her now; she looked up and paled at the sight of him. He smiled and she almost swooned away in front of them both.

"Are you alright Mrs. Watson?" She could have sworn she saw concern in his eyes, but waved the thought away as mere fancy. She nodded and the tea cup in her hand began to shake.

"I'm sorry my dear, we have been going on rather haven't we?" John had taken the cup from her and had now risen, offering her his arm; she took it gratefully and shakily got to her feet.

"Not at all, but I feel very dull and stupid not to understand it." She lied, hoping they would not discern the true reason for her silence.

"I am sure you are far from stupid Mrs. Watson." Mr. Holmes said without emotion.

Mary longed for him to call her by her Christian name but she knew that he would not, that that kind of familiarity he would permit himself to bestow; even to the wife of his best friend. She sighed, which her husband took to be tiredness and led her to a waiting carriage in the street below. As he shook his friend's hand Mary felt a pang of jealousy, but not for John, for the detective. She shuddered against her feelings and John bundled her into a carriage. She caught Mr. Holmes smile at this show of affection but he remained silent. As the carriage pulled away she was vaguely aware of John's words but she was barely listening, she longed for another man with the part of her soul that had forced her desires into her subconscious. John reached out for hand and without thinking she took it, it was cold, a single tear rolled silently down her cheek and without words John pulled her to him, she leaned into him and without thinking let forth a torrent a tears that her husband thought would never stop.


	6. Maybe he did

_For VHunter07 whose review of the previous chapter inspired this one. I hope you enjoy : ) _

**Maybe he did…**

As I sat looking at her I simply could not believe my luck, she was the most perfect woman I had ever seen and I have had my fair share of experience with women. There was something about her eyes however that made me cautious. They were never quite sad but they were never altogether happy either. She thinks I do not know but I have seen the way she looks at Holmes – and indeed the way he looks at her. I have no fear on Holmes' account; on the contrary I am grateful that he admires my wife. Mary however, is a different thing, I love her. I am so completely in love with her that I do not how to tell her. Perhaps she knows. Still there has always been that nagging doubt in my mind that perhaps she only married me because Holmes holds such an irresistible fascination for her.

I would like to think it was not so.

She smiles as she catches my eye, then she returns to her work. Her nimble fingers moving delicately over the embroidery. It is soothing to me to watch her work, I can forget these doubts and simply reflect on how lucky I am. Here, in my own home, with her, I can forget what she may be feeling and I can hold on to her, here she is mine; here she is away from Holmes…


	7. A Little Too Old

**A Little Too Old. **

He ached; everything in him ached and screamed for sleep. He looked around him and let out a small sigh. The room was filled with elegant men and women, all dressed beautifully and swirling around gracefully, making him feel slightly nauseous. Watson appeared suddenly before him, breathless and flushed.

"Aren't you a little too old for this sort of thing?" Holmes asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Old? I most certainly am not too old. Besides one forgets ones age when one is dancing with a girl as charming as Miss Cartwright."

"Yes, I'm sure one does." Holmes replied suppressing a groan.

"What's wrong?" Watson asked, his breathing returning to some sort of normal state.

"Nothing, maybe I am getting a little too old for this sort of thing."

"My dear Holmes you have always been a little too old for this sort of thing." Watson laughed. Holmes smiled thinly in return.

"It was you, Watson that insisted I come tonight, I have many others things requiring my attention."

"I thought it would do you good to focus on something other than death and destruction for a change."

"I like death and destruction – it never changes. This," Holmes waved an arm around the room, "this is forever changing and so filled with convention and uncertainty that it makes one feel quite lost."

"Lost?" Watson raised an eyebrow, "I've never heard you describe yourself as lost before."

"Because Watson I don't usually feel lost." Holmes shuffled uncomfortably, "I'll see you at home."

With that he stalked off in the direction of the door, a thousand eyes following his every move but he ignored each of them. Watson smiled as an attractive young girl linked her arm through his.

"Was that Mr. Holmes? He's very attractive isn't he?"

Watson groaned, it was a comforting thing to know, as one approached middle age, that some things in the world were never likely to change.


	8. Legend

**Legend.**

London was odd. One minute it took you in and left you breathless, the next it made you want to run away screaming to some far off land about which you had read and longed for with something in you that was wild and unbidden. A solitary man wandered along the banks of the Thames in the early winter sunlight, his breath swirling in a foggy mist in the air around him, giving him undeniable evidence that he was actually alive. The streetlamps shuddered as they went out and the air over the Thames swirled in mystical and romantic motions that left the observer cold. He could feel nothing but the cold air biting into his uncovered hands and whipping around his face. The blood that once warm and had trickled down his face in a torrent, was now cooling and congealing around his hair. He did not care, the fight was over and he had won – as he knew he would. The aftermath was the worst, this feeling of isolation, of loss, of not knowing quite what to do next. He heard a shout from the river and jumped, but smiled when he realised it was one of the mudlarks shouting to a friend. He watched them, those wretched innocents run away to…to what he wondered? Slowly he made his way home, not wanting to face the deluge of questions that inevitably waited for him. Here he was at peace, alone, the way he preferred his life. He sighed as he became colder and the mist over the water began to thin and reveal faces to him, breaking the magic as they appeared. The slow footsteps of this solitary man were heard by the people of the river who turned to look at him as he passed, silenced by his silhouette, almost reverent in their gazes; he ignored them of course. It would not do for such a lofty figure to be seen acknowledging those who fear him, so he strode off in the direction of home, not entirely oblivious to the gazes that followed him, observing him the way he had often observed them. They watched and they waited for his last footfall to die away before returning to their work.

He walked a long way back home, the gazes of the people lingering in his mind; he smiled as he realized that they were making him into what he always knew he would be – a legend.


	9. Not Her

**Not Her.**

The incessant voices would not stop; they ran and ran around his head until he could do nothing to block them out. He wished they would shut up, the incessant flow of people in and out of the house, looking at him with sadness and pity. He could not stand pity, after everything he had been through; pity was the one thing he did not need. He saw Mycroft Holmes out of the corner of his eye, standing awkwardly in his doorway. He ignored him, he was not in the mood for superiority, and he was not in the mood for anything relating to Holmes. He knew it was not his fault but Mary was dead and his pain forbid him from feeling anything for anyone but Mary, he could not think about Holmes. Not now. He was angry at him for leaving him to grieve alone, he was angry at everyone for all he had lost; and what grieved him more was that at his own wife's funeral, he was wishing for Holmes and not her….


	10. Time for a Change

* * *

**Time for a Change.**

Sherlock Holmes loved his country but he hated its weather. While the rain and the darkness soothed his thoughts they were, after 14 solid days, a little trying. Watson especially, was not a patient person when it came to the weather, he complained constantly of his wounded shoulder and how the weather made it ache. Holmes sympathised but as there was nothing practical he could do, did not concern himself with Watson's problem.

It was not often that Holmes allowed himself to brood, especially over something as unpredictable as the weather, but he was feeling old, perhaps it was time for a change. London was not the city it once was, it had changed much since he had moved here as a young man. He felt the quiet life call to him constantly and since Watson had remarried, Holmes was alone – and he detested being alone.

**_Reviews always appreciated._**


	11. Moods

**Moods.**

"An American?" Holmes almost fell off his chair in his surprise. I stifled a smile.

"I thought you admired Americans?" I asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Well, yes, from a distance. I admire certain murderers but that doesn't mean I want to live with one."

"It wont be for long and I did promise."

Holmes groaned and wriggled further into his chair.

"Very well, he may stay."

I smiled, it was very easy to forget I payed half the rent on this flat and yet still had to ask permission from Holmes for every change made to the place. I began to turn when Holmes voice stopped me,

"He doesn't have a god awful accent does he? You know one that would make my very fragile nerves scream out for the Queen's English?"

I had to laugh. Holmes swung his legs down in front of him and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because you are being absurd."

"I'm just attempting to protect my sanity." He complained, resuming his former position.

"I fear, my dear Holmes, that your sanity was lost a very long time ago."

I felt him smile as I left, rather than saw it, and a moment later I heard him plucking random notes on his violin and I marvelled at how our quickly our moods could change….

* * *

_Apologies to any American readers! I'm sure Holmes doesn't mean it._

_Reviews always appreciated._


	12. Rear Window

I came home after a particularly hard day to find the first floor of Baker street in complete darkness

I came home after a particularly hard day to find the first floor of Baker street in complete darkness.

"Has Mr. Holmes gone out?" I asked Mrs. Hudson as I removed my coat and hat.

"Not that I know of Sir." She replied taking my things from me and disappearing through the kitchen door. Making my way hesitantly up the stairs, it was ridiculous that I had to creep around in my own house but that was one of the perils of living with a man who several others had sworn revenge on. I gently pushed open the door and entered. Holmes was perched on the windowsill, his nose almost pressed against the glass.

"What are you doing?" I asked, pausing in the doorway.

"Shut that door!" He growled at me, spinning round.

I did so and sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

"Well what are you doing?"

"Watching."

"Holmes we could be here for a very long time if you insist on giving me one word answers."

"The man across the street, he's acting rather odd."

"Really in what way?" I asked, going to stand behind him.

"He comes and goes at al hours and well, he was with a woman, who seems to have vanished."

"Vanished?"

"Yes, I find it rather puzzling."

"Well you can't tell much from here."

He ignored so intent was his concentration on the house opposite ours. I left him that way and woke to find him in the same position.

"This isn't healthy Holmes."

He ignored me again, it was going to be a long week…..


	13. Carollers

**Carollers**

'_Deck the Halls with bows of Holly fa la la fa la la la la la'_

"What is that infernal racket?!"

"Carollers"

"What right do they have to torture my ears with awful songs?"

"They are children"

"I do not care if they are the Queen's children I want them gone!"

"Where is your Christmas spirit?"

"Dead and buried"

"If you are not careful my friend you will have three visits from three spirits wishing to reform you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dickens."

"I don't care a fig about Dickens."

"Well I'm going to give them something."

"Don't look at me I haven't got anything."

"Very well."

* * *

"Would you like some tea doctor?"

"Yes thank you Mrs. Hudson."

"How is your leg today Doctor?"

"Oh awful Mrs. Hudson."

"I'm very sorry to hear that Sir. Where is Mr. Holmes?"

"Out wasting his money on carollers Mrs. Hudson."

"Very good sir."

* * *

_Wishing you all a Very Merry Christmas and a Prosperous New Year : ) _

_Elizabeth x_


	14. There's been a Murder

**There's been a Murder.**

It was dark and Holmes lay awake, his fingers twirling one over the other, it was early, about six he reckoned, he had heard Mrs. Hudson pottering about downstairs but paid her little attention. He turned onto his side and closed his eyes. There was a knock on the door below, a soft knock, one eye opened then closed again as he heard a young girl speaking. Then there were footsteps, frenzied and tripping over themselves in their eagerness. Holmes opened both his eyes and sat up, raising one eyebrow as the steps approached his door.

"This one?!" He heard a young voice shout.

"Well yes but…" Mrs. Hudson, breathless but recognisable.

His door was pushed open and a flurry of blond curls bounced into his lap. Holmes groaned as the girl hit his shin.

"Mr. Holmes! It is you! Why are you squirming? I must talk to you." The girl's accent was refined and careful, in spite of its speed. Holmes took the girl by the arms and gently placed her on the floor, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed he flung on a dressing gown and stared at her.

"Well, who are you?" He asked with a slight smile.

"Hayley." She answered simply.

"And what can I do for you at this ungodly hour…Hayley." He paused as he said her name, standing he lit a cigarette and motioned for Mrs. Hudson to leave, who did with a frown.

"There's been a murder Mr. Holmes."

Holmes paused, the cigarette still between his lips and stared at the blond haired, rosy cheeked vision in front of him.

"A murder?"

* * *

**_A bit long for a drabble I suppose but it's more of a continuous drabble...if that makes sense...._**

**_Reviews welcome : )_**


	15. Simply Wonderful

**Simply Wonderful**

"Forgive me for saying so miss, but you are rather young to be out on your own."

Holmes had relocated to the sitting room, where he watched with interest as Hayley sipped the tea he had given her and was swinging her small legs to and fro off the corner of the couch. She looked up as he spoke.

"I often go out on my own."

"Indeed?" Holmes smiled, "And how do your parents feel about this?"

"I have no parents." She replied quietly staring down into her tea cup.

"I am sorry."

She looked up and smiled.

"This murder you spoke of?"

"Oh yes Mr. Holmes, you must help me. I know who did it and you must catch him!"

Holmes sprang forward and caught the cup that was sliding freely from Hayley's grasp in her excitement.

"I am afraid you are going rather too fast for me. Pray tell me everything from the beginning."

Hayley sighed and allowed the cup to be taken from her hands, Holmes remained kneeling in front of her.

"My maid Clara, has been shot, she was shot by a man who loved her but she did not love him, he was jealous and in a rage he shot her, I saw it."

She sat back and folded her arms, a petulant expression on her face. Holmes sighed.

"You are, I think one of the most forthright clients I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

"Misfortune? I am telling you what happened you must be able to help me!"

"I will help you." Holmes stood and placed the tea cups on the table. He turned to find Hayley had wound herself around his legs.

"Oh thank you, I knew you couldn't be as awful as you are in those stories, everyone told me how cold you were but you're not you're simply wonderful!"

Holmes groaned and tried in vain to remove the girl, he was in the process of doing so when the door opened.

"Holmes? Why what on earth is going on?"

Damn, Holmes thought, Watson had a knack of turning up at the most inopportune times…..


	16. The Man Who Keeps me Sane

**The Man Who Keeps me Sane.**

"Am I interrupting something?" Watson's voice was tinged with amusement as he loitered in the doorway.

Hayley looked up and released Holmes.

"Doctor Watson!" She screamed at him, holding out small hand in greeting which Watson took it with a smile.

"It's very nice to meet you Miss…?"

"Baudliere." She answered with a small courtesy. Watson smiled and walked past her into the room.

"I am sorry to have interrupted your interview."

"You did not." Holmes smiled back, ignoring the almost cat like grin on Watson's face.

"No Dr. Watson you were not. Mr. Holmes knows all about it now and he promised to help me." Hayley turned a scintillating smile on Holmes.

"Yes…" Holmes ignored the girl's smiles and walked over to his bookcase.

"May I inquire as to your age Miss. Baudliere?" Watson asked as the child scrambled next to him on the couch.

"I am seven years old doctor."

"Seven? Why you're practically a lady."

Hayley smiled at him and giggled.

"Baudliere, I knew I had heard that name before." Holmes said behind the bookcase.

"My name?" Hayley enquired.

"Yes, your parents Hayley were very important people. You are the child of a Lord are you not?"

Hayley shrugged, matters of state evidently lost on her.

"Are you going to help me catch the man who murdered Clara?" She asked, impatient to see some action.

"Mmm?" Holmes looked up from the book he was holding, "Yes of course, we will start as soon as it gets light."

Watson yawned,

"Yes I think that would be a good idea."

Hayley watched as he leaned back and closed his eyes, she turned to Holmes.

"He doesn't do very much does he?" She asked.

Holmes laughed.

"He does rather a lot Miss. Baudliere, he keeps me sane."


	17. The Guardian

**The Guardian**

Holmes marvelled at the scene in front of him. Hayley had fallen asleep and was resting her head on Watson's shoulder who was also sound asleep. Daylight was beginning to glimmer through the open curtains of 221B and al laws silence – until the doorbell rang. Holmes glanced up from the sleeping pair and listened as feminine voices were heard from below.

"Mr. Holmes!" He heard a woman scream. He groaned, this was becoming a habit. Watson's eyes fluttered open and rested quizzically on Holmes as the voice registered in his consciousness. Holmes shrugged as he got to his feet to greet his visitor. The door flew open and in burst a woman, the fires of hell blazing in her eyes.

"Can I help…" Holmes started but was cut off by a high-pitched shriek emanating from the woman.

"Hayley!"

Said Hayley was by now awake and staring open-mouthed at the woman before her.

"What on earth are you doing here?" She demanded, pulling the poor girl from the sofa and holding her by the shoulders before her.

"I came to see Mr. Holmes about Clara."

"What? Really child you shouldn't bother such a man as Mr. Holmes with trifles."

"I assure you madam Miss. Baudliere was not bothering me in the least. It has been very pleasant making her acquaintance." Holmes smiled down at the girl, who beamed back at him.

"I'm sure, she's a very entertaining girl is our Miss. Baudliere but poor Clara's death was the result of a lover's tiff nothing more."

"Are you certain of that Miss..?"

"_Mrs_. Crombermere and yes I am certain of it thank you. You need not concern yourself about us."

"But she was shot Crombie! Murdered!" Hayley's voice piped up.

"Murdered!? Oh heaven's above save me from the ravings of this child!"

Holmes smiled as the woman crossed herself and closed her eyes.

The door to the sitting room opened and in came Watson. Holmes raised an eyebrow, he had not seen him leave.

"I thought we could do with some tea." He smiled. Holmes smiled back. Watson was always around at the most opportune times….

**_

* * *

_**

Not very drabble like I know but I got carried away!


	18. Tea and Cakes

_Last chapter for a while I'm afraid, life goes back to normal tomorrow and I go back to earning a living which means a busy few weeks but I will try and update sometime before Feb! Thank you for all the reviews and thank you for reading! Oh and Happy New Year!_

**Tea and Cakes.**

"How very thoughtful of you." Mrs. Crombermere beamed as Watson placed the tray down.

"Yes, well tea makes one comfortable and painful things are much easier to talk about when one is comfortable." Watson smiled as Mrs. Crombermere and Hayley took a seat by the fire. He ignored the rolling of Holmes' eyes as he too took his seat.

"Right, now we have tea can you please explain to me what is going on?" Holmes glared at the woman who was sipping tea without a care in the world.

"I told you Mr. Holmes, it was a lover's tiff that got out of hand."

Hayley shot an imploring look at Holmes who sighed and rested his head in his hand.

"Mrs. Crombermere, while I respect the fact that you know the victim and the circumstances surrounding the girl's death somewhat better than myself, there is still the issue of Hayley. She was evidently scared by something, scared enough to seek me out on her own in the early morning. What child does that who has not been terrified by the loss of someone close to her?"

Holmes had leaned forward and was staring intently at the woman who was staring intently back.

"You are right, of course you are right."

Holmes sighed and leaned back, a slight smile hidden by his hand. It was Watson's turn to roll his eyes.

"Very well Mr. Holmes, the case is yours. But I do not know how will ever pay you, I doubt the mistress would…"

Holmes held up a hand.

"I am not interested in money, if I was I would have been a lawyer. I suggest we finish our tea and cakes and set out for…I'm sorry where is it you live?"

"Kensington Mr. Holmes."

Holmes smiled,

"A murder on our doorstep Watson, how refreshing."

Watson groaned slightly as he poured more tea for their guests.


End file.
